Well, I'm back to my old blog-procastinatifying ways. But I've been busy, so cut me some slack, homes.
Gearing up for the big trip to Montreal tomorrow. I managed to procure some tickets to the sold-out Bruins-Canadiens game; turns out a guy I play hockey with was going to go with a bunch of his buddies and they got tickets, but decided to bail on the trip because the Pats are in the Super Bowl this weekend. The guy was going to eat the tickets, but I talked him into giving them to me for $30 each; I believe they're $55 face value. Beats having to haggle with scalpers on the street.
Dang, the Godfather of Soul has seen better days, that's for sure.
So Howard Dean managed to rebound a bit in New Hampshire, finishing a distant second to Kerry but surpassing Edwards and Clark. Still, he's gotta win at least one of the Super Tuesday primaries to keep going. And the Good Ship Dean is springing leaks--he fired his campaign manager and he's running out of cash. No word on whether my last blog entry had anything to do with his recent misfortune; haven't heard from the 2.3 readers I have in the greater North American region.
This is stoooopid.
This is nasty.
I believe this is what the British call "taking the piss" out of the Pitchdork dorks. I call it frickin' funny.
Hokay, as my good friend Senor OJ likes to say early and often, that is all.